An Everyday Occurence, Why Do You Ask?
by Dr. Chaos
Summary: Some Slytherin ficlets. Eventually, I might actually make an entire story. Rated to be safe.
1. Day 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Just an idea I felt creep up on me. Think of this scene occurring after the two young Slytherins manage to escape from the Death Eaters' den. Anyway, the idea of them arguing overice creamwhilerunning awayjust seemed to fit their personalities. Besides, who better than the two Slytherins we know nothing about?

_**An Everyday Occurrence, Why Do You Ask?**_

The pair stumbled out of the cave, Blaise's arm draped around Ted's neck. Blaise held his other hand against his bleeding side, while Ted tried to keep upright with the added weight. An observer who wasn't a Slytherin would've been utterly shocked at their conversation as they trudged along.

"Really? I always," a hacking cough interrupted him, "preferred cookie dough."

"Come now, Blaise. Everyone knows that orange sherbert is the best. And stop coughing blood on me, I just got these robes pressed."

"Sorry. I'll force myself to stop bleeding," another racking cough, "to death from a dozen sodding knife wounds. And _orange sherbert? _Could you be any more of a prissy-pants poofter than you already are?"

"Points for alliteration, but really, old chum, you've got to admire ice cream that has to have the color it is in the name. Plus the tangy taste-"

"'Scuse me,but I need to pass out. And not just because you're making me ill."


	2. Day 2

Disclaimer: Standard bit. I own nothing.

Blaise was in hell. There was no other real explanation for his current situation. He'd died and gone straight to hell. It'd explain the pain in his head, the bad taste in his mouth, and what felt like a mix between vomit and drool on his chest.

He had no desire to open his eyes. None at all. Especially considering he'd been woken by the bloody fucking singing and daylight. He really despised his flatmate at times.

The pounding in his head seemed to be getting worse as the singing progressed. He winced as a particularly high key was invented. He was going to go to Azkaban for murder, just as soon as he retrieved his wand, found the flamboyant git, and made the room stop spinning from where he was lying.

Testing his courage, he decided to risk opening his eyes, if only for a microsecond, to glance at the damage. He got as far as moving his eyelids before breaking out into vile rants, most of them against any deity having to do with light.

Preparing himself again, he held a pillow in front of his face to block any light. Slowly, he pushed his lids up again. With an incredible force of will, he managed to get them completely open. His reaction to this success, however, was less than pleasant.

"Bloody fuck-all sun!"

He smothered his face with his pillow. _This really can't get any worse_, he thought as a wave of nausea hit.

Naturally, he was wrong.

"Hello, Blaise!" chirped the Flatmate From Hell. A flash of blue light and a hole appeared in the wall next to her head. Naturally, the woman didn't so much as flinch. "You missed!" Daphne Greengrass remarked perkily.

"Damittall, Daph, get me some Hangover Cure, some water, or a bloody Muggle gun!" He groaned as he felt some of yesterday's meals creep up.

She sat on the bed beside him. "I can understand the first two, but why a gun?"

"To shoot you with since you won't do what I asked!" He set his wand down and struggled to sit up. He was firmly pushed back down.

"Don't even think it, 'Bini. You're not getting up today. I already Floo-ed in and told them. Your boss was really understanding." Daphne pursed her lips. "Frighteningly so. I think Creevey has a bit of a crush on you."

Blaise promptly turned over, expelled what was left of his previous meals, and moaned.

Daphne shrugged as she conjured a cloth and started wiping his mouth. "Can't blame you there for losing your stomach. I mean, really, can you just imagine kissing that little…" She was interrupted by another moan. "Apparently so. And do stop vomiting on my shoes. They're new."


End file.
